11.

"What do you think about Azazeal?"

"Ah...don't know. Does it come with extra cheese?"

Xander's brow furrowed but his gaze didn't waver. He'd been firmly attached to the latest edition of the 'Justice League' for the last three hours. She wondered what on earth he found so fascinating about all those brightly coloured pictures of overdeveloped men in spandex, she wondered and she worried. He hadn't looked at her all morning and that in itself was grounds for divorce, if they'd ever actually gotten married that is. Which of course was his fault as well. In fact she wouldn't put it past him to have avoided marriage simply so as she couldn't divorce him at times like this. Yes. Very clever. Very, very clever Xander Harris. She buttered an English muffin venomously, trying to make the sound of the knife as intrusive as possible and when that didn't work, threw the utensil at the wall. Finely attuned to her moods as always, he raised his head,

"I'm sorry Honey...did you say something?"

She smiled tightly,

"No."

And that was just typical. Any life-partner worth his salt would have realised that she was just covering. Trying to be nice when what she actually wanted to do was....

"I feel like screaming."

The head came up again, this time a slightly more nervous look,

"Well, I...ah...guess that's natural. Pent up emotions and all that. Although, obviously not something I'd enjoy....a great deal of."

"And I miss Giles."

she slumped over the table,

"Why did he have to go back so soon. It's rains there, constantly. And he always so kind to me. And he says such nice things about how pretty I look and...and how I'm 'glowing'."

"You are glowing Honey. Sometimes I think you actually strobe."

She fixed him with a look that made him want to grab his coat and head for the nearest exit,

"It's not funny Xander. Pregnancy makes me feel all....weak and needy. I hate it."

********

That did it. The guilt gate was wide open now and he was getting it full force. All the stuff about her ankles and her back and the way her nipples chafed so badly all the time. And the sickness and the nausea...well, strictly speaking that had mostly been on his side. The moods were the worst, if he'd thought she was 'temperamental' before? If he actually used the word 'temperamental'? He firmly believed that it would be the last thing he would ever hear.

But he could take it. In the end it seemed like a small price to pay for so much of the good stuff in between, not to mention what was ahead. He watched her leafing through the baby name book again, one hand resting on her forehead, the other idly dangling half a muffin, dripping butter on his security-deposit...sorry...rug. And she was a dream come true. All golden curls and rose-bud lips...

"Aha! And you told me 'Alexander' meant 'stallion'! Another Harris fabrication!"

and razor tongue. He stifled a sigh, knowing how it would be construed, made for the bathroom.

And this was pretty much the routine these days. They got up early on Saturdays to enjoy a rare breakfast together and ended up in a mild sniping match, Anya always the victor, with him slowly bringing up the rear, yet again crushed beneath the boot heel of the mighty 'impregnation guilt'. It was his seed that had made her this way, his overzealous need to have 'make- up sex' at least three or four times a day that first week. His total lack of concern when he'd discovered they were out of prothelactics. She still threw the words back at him sometimes...

"Hey...you've only just become human again. What's the likelihood?"

But they were happy. He knew they were...really...underneath all the....well, he was happy anyway. And he knew she would be too. When she held that little baby in her arms, felt the joy of motherhood, the reality of the new life they had created, the twinge of pain as they stitched her up. See...that last part was hers, he was sure. God, she was started to infiltrate his brain now. In a really disturbing kinda way.

********

He was hiding from her again, she could feel it. Sometimes she felt like hiding from her too, but that was impossible unless she drank gin. Gin had always been a very effective means of self-denial. But now that escape route was closed to her too. Nothing to do except grin and bear it. And scream. She experimented with a small one. Not particularly satisfying. Maybe she'd go down to the bottom of the stairwell later, really let one go. She flicked through the book of names again, looked up Buffy, felt an involuntary spasm of horror at just the sight of the words.

"Oh my God....Xander! Did you realise that...that Buffy is derived from....'Bunny or little rabbit'? That's hideous! Like being called 'succubus' or 'entrails' or something? Do you think she knows? Xander?"

He wasn't answering, too involved in his manly shaving ritual no doubt. She shuddered again and riffled through to the boys. Bound to be less rodents there.

Rupert: Bright Fame. That was nice, sort of fitting. He was intelligent and, although not a household name, was pretty well thought of in certain circles. Not the sort of title you'd give a child though. Maybe a Pug or a Golden Retriever. She found William. Hmmm...resolute guardian. She wondered how Buffy would feel about that one. Less the guardian...more the stalker maybe? Although, being fair, that didn't really seem to be his bag these days. What with the all-new soul and everything, he'd changed a lot. The hair being one of the less attractive alterations. He seemed kinder, more thoughtful, her brow creased as she remembered the way he'd taken her bags off her in the street the day before, insisted on carrying them all the way home. Xander could do with a little more of that. Plus the abs. He could really do with the abs as well. She frowned at the book and threw it down, stomped over to the bathroom, opened the door, scowled and dropped unceremoniously onto the toilet.

********

"Anyanka isn't even in there. It's not even a real name. That stupid book doesn't even have a demon section. How are you supposed to find anything suitable?"

He perched on the bath next to her, kissed her nose.

"How about Xanya...or Anyander? Like when old people name their beach houses?"

She rubbed her face with the back of one hand, wiped away the kiss, but the scowl was gone,

"Anyander Harris. I don't like it. She sounds like a romance novelist."

"She?"

She shrugged,

"Or he. I'm easy. As long as he has my eyes...and your upper arms...."

He kissed her again, resumed shaving,

"Of course it could be a Quantecaust."

"A what-e-what?"

She raised her eyebrows, surprised at his lack of knowledge,

"A Quantecaust. A changeling child placed in the womb of a slumbering woman by tiny hedgehog-like demons with big hands. It's quite common."

He felt the blood draining from his face, good, that meant less for the razor.

"And do you think...that might have happened?"

She looked blank, felt around for the toilet paper,

"You mean did I experience a sharp prickling sensation just prior to conception?"

He nodded. Had he just nodded?

"No, I don't remember anything like that. Just....the usual pleasant numbness."

Gadzooks, so why did she torture him like this? All the talk about changelings and reptiles, all while he was still reeling from the sight of true demon-face, that weird red skull thing. And he was almost sure he hadn't let her know how much that one had really freaked him out. And it had...really. Still freaking a little here. And the idea of his baby, of their baby, coming out with that face on? That one had been playing in Screen 1 of his mind-multiplex for weeks, sometimes twice nightly. He lathered up again, watched her watching him in the mirror. But who was he kidding? Any child of theirs would be set for life. She was gorgeous. Those big eyes, the elfin face... she belched suddenly, covered her mouth. Yeah...she was pure gold.

********

"Do you think Buffy'll ever settle down?"

It wasn't a trick question, she really wanted to know what he thought. She saw his eyes flick to her, just checking her intent, and then back to the mirror.

"I dunno. Someday...yeah...I suppose. Don't forget the Buffster hasn't exactly been what you might term 'lucky in love'. Relationships with the Slayer are essentially doomed on account of the whole superpower issues, dark-side stuff

"Men are afraid of strong women."

She could see he wasn't going to be rising to that one again,

"Not all men. Some men like a gal who can tote an axe."

"But let's face it, most of them would want naked with that axe. With a side order of skinny and stupid."

That wasn't strictly true. She knew that. Men liked women in all shapes and sizes, as the top shelf of the local paper stand bore witness. But they did all seem to like them naked...and on their backs. And sometimes with large inexplicable black circles over their private parts. Although maybe that was just a fetish thing of some kind. Poor Buffy. She didn't stand a chance with a normal guy. Far too busy with the running and jumping to spend too much time clothesless.

"I wonder what she looks like naked? Do you ever wonder that?"

She saw his hand judder and a satisfying spot of blood appear under the foam,

"Can't say as I have."

Oh right. We know that was the truth. She'd seen his high school note books, the many and varied drawing of a certain person's frame hidden in the back covers. She could see him looking at her, waiting for her to call it and when she didn't he ventured another answer,

"I suppose...I mean I'm guessing she's in pretty good condition, what with the slaying nightly. What...you think she should make a bit more of an effort. Put herself out there?"

"Out where?"

O.K, now she was just being obtuse.

"Weren't you just saying...that she needs a man?."

"A man? Honey, I think you're missing a plot point here. She's already got one of those."

She widened her eyes and he spluttered, fucking up what little was left of his shave.

"What? You mean Spwilliam? The all-new Spike? You've got to be kidding me? That's got the kiss of death from the get-go!"

Tilted his head, looked at himself in the glass, looked at her as she snorted, got to her feet, shuffling her toes back into her hippo slippers.

"You're right Xander. Of course. What was I thinking of."

she flung open the door, stalked back to the bedroom,

"An Ex-demon and a human in a meaningful relationship? I mean how long's that going to last."